Notice

Apr. 25th, 2005 05:34 pm
[identity profile] x-avier.livejournal.com

It grieves me to inform you all that Pete Wisdom is no longer on the staff of the school, nor will he be returning. Pete Wisdom has taken another position that has come into conflict with his responsibilities and duties at this school, and as such has been asked to leave the campus. He is no longer welcome on the grounds and should be considered dangerous.

It is asked of the students not to allow him on the school premises under their own security auspices for any reason should he ever show up and request this. Should Mr. Wisdom contact any of you, I would ask that you refrain from communication and inform a staff member immediately.

Annoucement

Mar. 3rd, 2005 11:07 pm
[identity profile] x-avier.livejournal.com
Pete had to leave us rather hastily over the weekend, to attend to some family business. I am afraid that is all the news I may share with you at the moment, since this is a private matter.

Wanda agreed to become a student counselor last week, while in parallel exploring several other possibilities with Westchester University. While we were planning on having her assist Pete in his duties for the school, she will be for the moment taking over, as well as handling other matters I will leave her to describe when she is ready.

Thank you,
Charles
[identity profile] x-pete.livejournal.com
I understand many of you are pissed off with our cajun streetrat.  You need to know the following things about Remy LeBeau:

If you should encounter him, run away.  Don't stop to talk, for any reason.  Don't call for backup and keep an eye on him until it arrives.  Just plain run.  You can call for backup when you're sure there's a couple of miles between you and him.  This applies to everyone, and should be considered a directive from god - I don't care whether you like him or hate him, you run away from him as soon as you see him whatever else is going on aroud you.

If I should discover that anyone has *not* done this, and by some miracle they survive the experience, they can look forward to being locked in a cupboard for their own saftey until I judge that they have learned how to pay attention, and I'll deal with the human rights lawyers later.

I'll explain why when we've had a chance to try and sort some of this mess out.  But for now, and for your own safety, stay well away from him.
[identity profile] x-pete.livejournal.com
Firstly: I assume we're all aware of the school policy on alcohol for minors.  Good.

Secondly: As your guidance counsellor, I have the following warning to you all about the dangers of alcohol:

It'll make you feel like a right arsehole in the morning.  And in extreme situations, you may get a hell of a fright when you wake up next to someone either innapropriate or ugly.  God knows, I've done both, and I don't recommend either.

Consult your nearest doctor for a quide to the physical symptoms of over-indulgence, and the dangers of dependency.  If they bring out the picture of the liver, then they hate you, and are trying to make you throw up for laughs.

That's your warning.  Now, some clarifications.  Specifically, about things alcohol is not.

1) An excuse.  If you get drunk, and do something stupid, they you have done two stupid things - one, whatever it is you did, and two getting drunk enough to do it in the first place.  Expect to get a bollocking for both.

2) A crutch.  It will not make your life better, or your problems go away.  In fact, it will give a headache, and you'll still have all your old problems.  Attempting to use it like a crutch is stupid, and will only lead to problems.  For one thing, you may wind up on a twelve step program, and that means godbothering.

3) (And this is the really important thing, so pay attention.)  Something about which one can claim any kind of moral high ground.  You don't drink?  That's fine.  Bet you've done something extremely stupid at some other time, without the aid of a drink. (Which means you also did two stupid things: whatever it was, and the lapse of judgement that lead you to do whatever it was, and can expect a bollocking for both, too.)  I also bet that give a reasonable amount of time, and incentive, I can find out what.  If you are completely confident that you have never done anything stupid that you'd rather people not find out about, then by all means, point and laugh at others when they do something stupid.  By all means, assert your superiority.  It'll be nice to know who it is around here that's hiding all the answers.

I am aware that standards differ.  I am aware that some of you have been raised to believe that people who drink are all mad and evil, and out to do terrible things to your pets.  I am afraid to tell you that you have been lied to.  People who drink are just like you.  You do not get to tell them that they are Bad and Wrong, and they do not get to tell you that you are Boring and Stuck-Up, because neither thing is true.  If you attempt to use your own standards as some kind of yardstick by which others should live their lives, then you deserve all the mockery, ridicule and beating with sticks that you get.  If they work for you, then that's great, but it doesn't make you right.

For the record: I drink, I smoke, and I do other things that your parents would probably be appalled to hear about.  I am not a role model.  Accusing me of being a bad one would only be stating the blindingly bloody obvious.

I am not a role model, and nor should anyone else be expected to be, 24/7.  If you feel you need a role model 24/7, then I suggest attempting to organise some people into working shifts for you, or possibly just developing a personality of your own.  If you feel you are unable to tell when someone you look to as a role model is doing something stupid, and is not to be emulated, then I suggest enroling in some kind of class in remedial thinking.

Right then.

Sep. 7th, 2004 10:39 pm
[identity profile] x-pete.livejournal.com
For the benefit of new students, and to remind the ones that haven't fled screaming yet: I am your guidance counsellor for this year, because Charlie said it was either that of teaching flower arranging.  Sadly, I'm not really much of a guidance counsellor, but I have, thus far, been able to refrain from actually laughing in anyone's face, which should count for something.

I am here to deal with all those crises of a personal nature that don't require the attention of an actual trained professional, (although we do have several different kinds of those, too, and I can refer you to them, if need be) and, in theory, provide you with guidance about how to plan for your future.  In that regard, as I've said before, I'm of limited use, because I dropped out of school when stealing cars looked like more fun, and then blundered into my career more-or-less by accident, and it's not one I'd really recommend.  But I do have a few stacks of brochures from universities and leaflets about planning for your future and other career advice that don't look like a complete waste of time to me, and can probably manage to talk you through them, or point you in the direction of someone who can tell you more.

However, as I've just said to Angie, I am not psychic.  Occaisionally, I manage a lucky guess, but most of the time, I do need to be told that someone requires my size nines trampling all over their personal life before I descend upon people.  To which end I get to my point: My door is not always bloody open.  Anyone waking me in the middle of the night, for example, had better have a damn good excuse.  And I do other work which make occaisionally require me to be absent, or to be shut up in my rooms with the door locked.

But other than those times, if you should be in need of being told what to do with your life, or just to y'know, have a theraputic moan about the staff here, then you really should feel free to stop me at any time.  There is nothing you can come to me with than can possibly be too stupid, too trivial or too weird, of that I promise you.

Enjoy your school year.
[identity profile] x-pete.livejournal.com
Right then. I'll let the medical staff field questions about Amanda and Manny's physical state - Dr Bartlet assures me that Amanda is doing as well as can be expected, but other than that, I know very little.

So, what happened?

I honestly don't know how much of her past Amanda has shared with who, and I'm not about to violate her privacy too much, so you'll have to be satisfied with some fairly sketchy details, but broadly, a particular bastard from Amanda and Romany's past tracked Amanda down while she and Angelo were in LA, where they had gone with Dr Strange, Amanda's tutor. Strange has been in touch, and it turns out that the reason he wasn't around to help was that the shitbag had taken steps to remove him from the picture.

The chap in question forced Amanda to go to Mexico, by threatening people she cares about. She knew him well enough to know that these were not idle threats, and even were we able to protect everyone he threatened, he is not above simple moving on to threatening their families. Amanda was not prepared to risk that, so opted to go along his demands, in the hope of stopping him face-to-face. I understand that she was ready to go alone, and Angelo wouldn't let her, which does him credit. She attempted to call me, but since I was busy arguing with lawyers in New York at the time, my phone was switched off and I didn't get her message, and Angelo called Emma, who picked me up on the way to the airport.

Emma and I got there slightly too late to deal with the creep as we might have wanted to (ie, without involving Amanda and Angelo), but were were in time to stop him from harming Angelo, or carrying out his fulls plans for Amanda. He will not be a problem again.

Any questions?
[identity profile] x-pete.livejournal.com
But since there's a few of you talking about your next clubbing trip now, I'll spoil your fun sooner rather than later.

When we got the minibus, it was made clear that if any daft sod abused of the freedom from staff supervision that you get on these clubbing trips, there would be consequences.

So naturally, several daft sods did - despite the fact that the club knew you were all underage, you found ways to drink anyway. You were, at least, smart enough to avoid falling over or throwing up in the minibus or generally behaving like complete bleeding idiots, so the consequences are not going to be as dire as they might have been. But the next trip clubbing in the bus is going to have a very restricted list of venue choices. There are a number of places in the area that don't serve booze at all, and it will be to one of them that you shall go - I'll stick the list of approved venues up on the noticeboards in a week or so, when I've had time to sort it out.

This isn't very fair to those of you who were goody-two shoeses all night, but I have never pretended to be a fair man. And in any case, I invite you to think on this: I gave up a Saturday evening when I could have been out having fun myself for the lot of you. I did not dish out any bollockings on the spot, because you were all having a good time, and I wasn't going to spoil your night. But I got me ear bent by every telepath in the place when I got back, because apparently you little lot of drunken reprobates were broadcasting when we got back, and it turns out that most telepaths find drunken teenagers even more dull than the the rest of us do, something I hadn't thought possible before now. It really wasn't terribly fair that that should happen to me, either, and unfortunately for you lot, I am in a position to ensure that when my life becomes unfair, so does yours.
[identity profile] x-pete.livejournal.com
As the (more observant/less injured/not wrapped up in some strange crisis or other) of you will have noticed, Xavier's School has taken delivery of a shiny new minibus this weekend, intended, in part to replace the rather cramped people carriers we've been using up to now.

Specifically, it's to give you all an excuse to get out of here, and into a proper world with actual people in it.

The plan is this: On Saturday mornings, at about 9 am, the bus will leave here, and drive into New York. At 5 pm, the bus will leave New York and return here. Once we're in the city, the time's your own. The younger kids are welcome to come, if they can find an older student or staff member to accompany them, but those under 15 do not get to wander around New York unsupervised, and if they fuck about, nor will those over 15. If you need to be chaperoned, it's your responsibility to find someone willing to chaperone you. Those of you without mobile phones of your own will be given them for the day, as a precautionary measure. If I can wangle it, or talk Dr McCoy into fiddling with wires for fun, these things will have some form of GPRS trackers built in.

I'll be doing the driving for the next couple of weeks, until Amanda and I fuck off back home for spring break. I'm sure that between us, the staff can work out an actual rota for next term.

But wait! There's more:

Because I am a staggeringly nice man, and fully seized of the needs of teenagers, once a month, I'll be taking the bus out on a Friday or Saturday night (students choice) to a club (again, students choice) this is, obviously, open only to the over 16-s, and yes, you can expect that the door staff will be aware exactly how old you are. I will not be coming into the club, because I am ancient and horrible and do not wish to frighten the lovely young people that you will meet, but I'll be nearby, and will be driving you lot home when you're done, or when I become bored enough to get into the club and haul you out.

Obviously, all this lot comes under the heading of a privilege, not a right, so anyone who is stupid enough to arse about or think that they can play fast and lose with the rules on any of these trips will very swiftly find themselves stuck indoors on a long-term basis.

You may now all say "Thank you, Mr Wisdom".
[identity profile] x-pete.livejournal.com
For everyone's benefit

Here's what we know for certain, at the moment: A few days ago, Amanda made a love potion, and gave it to Doug. She is being punished for this, because it was bloody stupid of her to have made the damn thing. It appears to have been used on several of the students and faculty, causing them to fall temporarily in love with Mr Ramsey. Amanda has since reversed the potion's effect.

Mr Summers has gone to find Doug. It seems uncharacteristic of Mr Ramsey to use such a thing to say the least, so we're waiting until he gets back to see if he can shed light on the matter of who might have known where it was, or used it.

If anyone feels they have been affected by the potion, and wishes to talk about it, myself and Jake are available, and I'm sure that Doctor Samson will be able to make time for anyone that feels the need to talk to him about this.
[identity profile] x-pete.livejournal.com
On the subject of security: Jake and I are working on it. It'd be a lot easier if this wasn't a school, but apparently we're not allowed to chain you all to chairs and shoot anyone caught in the hallways, which was my favourite option.

I mention this so's you all know that yes, something *is* being done. When we get beyond "yeah, that could work" stage, we'll let you know exactly what's going on.

We're also doing our level best to run a risk assessment on the place, and work out who in here is hated to what extent by which bunch of bastards. To which end: if you think there's even a chance that some bunch of shitbags have reason enough to come after you or anyone else in that place, I want you to come see one of us. If we know about it, we can try and help, and it's not like I'm in any position to point and laugh at anyone else's past indiscretions.

Answers

Jan. 24th, 2004 11:11 am
[identity profile] x-pete.livejournal.com
I should apologise for not posting this sooner, but I've been getting bullet wounds treated and making phone calls. I sure many of you will be amsued to see that yes, once again, I've coped it in the leg, and will be leaning on a stick for a bit. But aside from that you all deserve answers, and I'm best placed to provide them. So here's the deal:

This latest attack on the school was because of me. As many of you know, I used to work for a division of the British Intelligence service - a special division of SIS, created in the early eighties to deal with "extra-normal affairs", which is how I first met Charlie, but that's another story. Last September, in response to a lot of things, culminating in a row over the future of Doctor MacTaggart's Muir Island facility, I was fired, and came to work here. I'd taken a variety of measures against reprisal, but, obviously, there's been a shift in policy at home that rendered them, well, moot, and yes, my former employers decided that they wanted me dead, and authorised an incursion into the school.

I've spent the last few hours on the phone, and I'm now as confident as I can be that we won't see a repeat attempt on your saftey (and my life) in this manner. It's only as good as the blackmail material I've been able to find on the new administration at my old department, but mercifully, I've been able to find some pretty horrible stuff, both on them, and on their Whitehall masters, so barring a complete change in the nature of the British establishment, we should be safe enough from futher direct assaults.

To address another rumour that will doubtless be doing the rounds at the moment: the sad, sick, truth is that as well as being the target of this operation, I wrote a large chunk of the manual for it while I was still employed by the British government. To answer Mr Summers', and doubtless the rest of your, perfectly reasonable question as to why I never said anything about that document, well, the answer is twofold. At the time I was asked to write it, I didn't say anything because the document's basic idea remains something that there is very little we can do anything about - that the staff of this school will do almost anything that is asked of them in order to protect its students, and that the single greatest difficulty in assaulting the mansion is the high number of resident telepaths. Subsequently, I said nothing, because, in all honesty, I forgot about it. Those of you that were here in late June, early July last year will remember the state of me when I showed up here on pysch leave. Without going into details, immediately after writing that memo, I spent quite some time of a variety of traumatic assignments I'd really rather not have been on, and in all the stress and confusion, it slipped my mind. Which is a shit excuse, but, well, it's true. Until the other night, I forgot I'd written it.

So to all you, most especially those of you that were trapped in that ballroom, my deepest apologies for endangering your safety. I've done what I can to stop that threat for now, and I regret not better anticipating it.

I am available to talk about it in whatever regard any of you need, or be yelled at about it if it'll make anyone feel better, or y'know, whatever. I can't exactly run away very fast at the moment, though. so if you're looking chase me down and do violence upon me, I'd appreciate it if you could wait until my leg has healed enough to at least make it sporting.
[identity profile] x-pete.livejournal.com
I assume I'd be a bad cop, anyway. They wouldn't let me be one.

Jake's done his pitch for the start of term, so I suppose I'd better do the same, or I'll look bad. Worse, anyway.

We didn't have guidance counsellors at my school, that I noticed. So you'll all have to bear with me if I have no fucking clue what I'm actually supposed to do. Broadly, I suppose, the job is preparing you for real life, and ensuring that you turn out to be useful and productive members of society, at least in the non-academic parts of your life. So we're probably screwed from the get-go, since I have not had a real life in quite some time, and know nothing about being useful or productive.

Jake, I suspect, will be terribly organised about this. He'll have office hours, and appointments, and schedules, and things like that. I, however, will not, because I frankly can't be arsed with it. Feel free to come and find me at any time. If I'm not in the Black Pit of Despair, as I have taken to calling my "office", then the odds are good that I will either be outside having a fag, or in me rooms.

But more importantly for your day to day lives, I may simply drop in on you when you're least expecting it, (because I am mercurial like that), and offer my guidance in your troubled lives, for which I shall expect you to say "Thank you, Mister Wisdom." and then swear about me behind my back. I will teach you the words if necessary.

If you feel that, spoiled for choice as you are, it's immensely difficult to decide which of us you'd rather talk to about a problem, it may help you to bear in mind that I was chucked out of school at 16 with O-levels in metalwork and geography, blundered around for a few years being a very naughty boy, and then got tapped into intelligence work, and as a consequence, know next to fuck all about higher education, planning your career, and the rest of that nonsense, while Jake went to Swiss finishing schools, or something, and holds multiple degrees, and as a consequence knows next to fuck all about anything interesting that he's allowed to tell you about without first presenting you with a price list.

It may, therefore, strike some of you as high comedy to come to me looking for educational advice, and Jake for the other stuff. While I fully endorse giving my colleague a hard time, I should point out that you will, in all seriousness, find me much less useful than him in regard to academic planning, and will only damage your own chances at that sort of thing by coming to me, and I strongly urge you to go to him with anything of that nature.

If, however, you doubt my ability to deal with your strange teenage problems, you should bear in mind that in so far as I was raised by anyone, it was my big sister, and you should ask Amanda how well that's likely to have prepared me for any sort of weirdness you care to throw at me. I can be damn certain that nothing, absolutely nothing in your lives could be any stranger/more traumatic than the time she brought home a female-male transexual who was halfway through the hormorone treatment and was also possessed by an former high priest of Atlantis as a girl/boyfriend.
[identity profile] x-pete.livejournal.com
I am assured that the horror I was presented with when I returned to the mansion is not, in fact a bleeding joke.

Well, no, it is, but it's worse than that. Boys and girls, we need to start commital proceedings for both Charlie and Ms. Alison Blaire. It is for their own good, and your saftey, because if we don't get them out of here sharpish, there's no telling what they'll do next.

In the meantime, though, I seem to have been railroaded into the post of student guidance counsellor. I'm still not entirely sure what the job involves, but they tell me I should just draw on my own teenage experiences in order to help guide you poor bastards through life. Accordingly, if anyone wants advice on which brand of glue is best for sniffing, or how to hotwire a car, my door is apparently open. If you have some kind of personal trauma, or just want to bitch about a member of the faculty, or another student, that's good too. I may even stretch to actual advice.

I'll work out some kind of nonsense about office hours later, I'm sure, but in the meantime, should you feel the urgent need for guidance counselling, or whatever it is I'm supposed to be doing, feel free to come and find me, and I'll make it up as I go along.
[identity profile] x-pete.livejournal.com
Those of you horrible little toerags who normally have 'Beginning self defense' on a Tuesday morning with Ms. Braddock will be taking the course with me while Betsy remains in her coma, as part of the plan to make her get better by the power of your thoughts and prayers alone.

I appreciate that I am much less attractive than she is, but this is not an acceptable excuse for skiving.

City Boy

Jul. 23rd, 2003 12:15 pm
[identity profile] x-pete.livejournal.com
It's far too bloody green around here for my likeing. There's all this fresh air for one thing, and I'm sure that's not good for me, or for growing children.

So on Saturday, I'm going into New York to inhale exhaust fumes. I will be visiting record shops, books stores, and other interesting places of which I know. I may be persuaded to go to other to places, if they sound sufficently unpleasant and entertaining.

Anyone wanting to come with me should be in the lobby at 11 am on Saturday morning. There are some students for whom this is not an optional trip. If you fear that this term may apply to you, then you can either explain why you don't want to take me up on this very generous offer to let you get the hell away from here for a bit, and I'll consider your feeble excuses, or you can get dug out of whatever pit you're hiding in come Saturday morning, and dragged into town.

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